Two skips have been filled with all the rubbish that we’ve accumulated here in the past fifteen years, countless trips to the recycling centre have been made. I’ve parted – with difficulty – with a few designer handbags and dresses, things that year after year I’ve decided were too good to throw out but now I just could not justify the expense to store. We’ve been through everything, trying to identify the stuff that we really do want to keep for posterity (old love letters, children’s school reports, christening certificates) from what can be thrown out. I decided old birthday cards can be chucked, as long as they were not home-made by the children. I’ve also decided to keep all photographs – I still think one day I’ll have enough time to go through them all and scan the ones I want to keep and throw away those that are mostly sky and where one can’t even distinguish who the person (or dog possibly?) in the photograph is. (Yes I do keep everything…). We’ve thrown out old video cassettes but decided to keep CD’s even though they’re all now on our various iPods and, as daughter tells me, something called Spotify has removed the need to own CD’s. It makes me think of the poor musicians who aren’t getting a penny, or perhaps just pennies from their work. The literary world is on the brink of a similar movement, but I digress. (What’s new?)
Back to the Big Move.
One dicey problem has been all the countless birthday or Christmas presents of candelabras, display china plates, figurines and scarves that I never liked in the first place but were too polite to say so at the time. Now that it’s time to throw them out I can’t even take any of them to my favourite charity shop as the stuff goes via some-one that I cannot be sure wasn’t the generous person who gave them to me. So off they go to the recycling, or as was the case with the china plates, into the cupboard and London where I can dispose of them more anonymously.
Even though the removal people will pack for us, we’ve been working solidly for seven days now. And I thought it was all done because the house was sorted, but I had completely forgotten about the barns. (Don’t ask)
But we are nearly there. Next blog will come from the wonderful retreat that is Babington House where we’ll be spending the next few days recuperating from the move and waiting for our new place to be vacated in London.
Wish me luck it’ll be OK on the day. (And the removal man isn’t called Fred.)
Oh Helena, I feel for you! Moving is just about the most awful thing, isn't it!I still remember my last one (which was just a year ago) I dare say you've been a bit more grounded in that respect:)And you know what?? We're moving again – and I Couldn't Be Happier About It!!!!!
I HATE moving! Yet I keep on having to move:-( Last time we moved I nearly had a nervous breakdown and we certainly could not afford to go anywhere nice to recuperate – so you are more fortunate. And I HATE renting and the house we live in…I hate the whole "property is God" attitude in this country. Sorry about the rant, I will shut up now.
Good luck!
Good luck! Moving is so stressful. I hope you get a good rest at Babington House!
Moving is definitely such a stressful experience – what a great idea to schedule in Babington House for some rest & relaxation. I will have to remember that for the next time I am foolish enough to move house again!
After all your sorting, packing and tears over your finds, I think Babington House is the only way to go! Enjoy and what a splendid idea! xx
How lovely to have a few days to relax before moving into your new place. I can't believe Removal Men actually pack for you these days! I have moved countless times and always had to do it myself – gutted!
As I am trying to keep out of the way I'm regretting I opted for the packing option. Daughter says I've packed everything anyway, and I did stuff like my knickers and bras!
I know I'm going to be able to relax tonight, but at the moment at 10 am that seems very long way away.
(Very stressed) Helena xx